CHAPTER SEVEN
The second shipment of the Diamond H cattle had reached Willcox a littleafter noon, and Holy lingered at the Cowboys' Rest with Buckboard Bill,while Bronco and Roarer proceeded up the street. They were not visiblewhen Holy, hastening through the corral gate, encountered MontgomeryWalton. The latter's manner was so cordial that Holy halted in surprise.
Montgomery Walton, the most unpopular man in Southern Arizona, wasalmost seventy years old, though as alert as a man of forty. His white,flowing hair and patriarchal beard were contradicted emphatically byferret-like face and shifty eyes, while his oily smile exposed yellowedtusks. He owned a fairly good-sized herd of cattle that werepreternaturally prolific, as his cows were very often seen with twincalves following them. Walton discouraged calls from other cattle men,and lived alone except for a half-witted Mexican--Loco.
To the disgust as well as amazement of Holy, Walton ambled along at hisside, and finally, tugging at the cowboy's blue flannel sleeve, drew himto a bench on the edge of the sidewalk. Then he produced a letter,extracted a small photograph and handed it to Holy.
"What do you think about her?" asked Walton with a smirk, as he pressedmore confidentially towards the cowpuncher.
Holy studied the picture of a sweet-faced girl.
"Why!" he ejaculated enthusiastically, "She's a regular peacherina. Whois she?"
Walton replaced the picture as he said, "She's coming on the west-boundtrain today and we're going to be married at once."
"Gee! You sly old dog!" commented Holy jocularly, while he wondered ifthe picture really looked like the girl, and if so, why she was going tomarry a man like old Walton. Then an inspiration dawned upon him, and heturned to Walton, clapping him heartily on the shoulder.
"Well! Why shouldn't you get married, I'd like to know?" he demanded asthough that privileged had been questioned by some invisible individual."A man's age ain't to be reckoned by his years. No, sirree! I've seedsome men who was ready to die of old age when they was twenty-five, andI've seed others that was young when they'd past eighty. Now, no onewould ever think you was a day over forty, Walton, if it wasn't for thatair white hair and beard of yourn."
Walton preened foolishly and tried to look incredulous, as he replied,"Do you really think so, Holy?"
"Sure thing!" asserted the other.
He looked contemplatively at Walton, then leaned closer and whispered,"Say, Walton, why don't you get Dunning to dye your hair and beardbefore the girl gets here. It'll make a difference of thirty years inyour looks."
Walton hesitated. "Maybe I will," he temporized. "You see, I sent her apicture of myself, but it was taken when I was about twenty-five. So Iwas a bit worried how she would act when she found I was not so young asshe expected. I hadn't thought of getting my hair dyed, though. It's agood suggestion, I think."
"You bet it is!" Holy waxed enthusiastic. "Women is queer critters, an'a young and pretty woman likes the man she marries to be somewhar nearher own age. She don't want to risk other women thinkin' that she had togo to an Ol' Man's Home and kidnap a husband. You jest take my advice,Walton, an' have a heart to heart talk with Dunning right away."
"I'll think about it," evaded Walton, as Holy with congratulations,parted from him, knowing Bronco and Roarer could be located behind theswinging doors that led to the bar-room of the Willcox Hotel.
Holy's smile expanded to a broad grin as he recognized his friends atthe end of the room and made his way to them.
"Thar's somethin' interestin' goin' to be cut loose if you fellows willchip in," he announced confidentially. "Now, don't waste time talkin' oraskin' fool questions. You jest come along with me down to Dunning's andfix it up with him. We ain't got no time to lose."
Before he had finished speaking, he was half-way to the door--the othertwo close at his heels. Holy vouchsafed no explanations for hismysterious actions. Hurrying down the street they entered a smallbarber-shop which was unoccupied save for the owner. Dunning was theonly barber in Willcox. He was an autocrat.
A chair, facing the wall on which was a fly-specked mirror, a row ofwooden seats, and a conspicuous placard bearing the pleasant, butmisleading fiction, "Fresh towel for each customer," constituted thefurnishings of the place. Dunning's hair shone glossy brown; hismoustache curled tightly as a pug dog's tail, a gorgeous red four-inhand, tight, grey trousers with broad black stripes made him brilliantlyconspicuous among the citizens of Willcox. Between shaves and haircutsthe barber delved into sentimental fiction.
With reluctance he put aside a yellow-backed novel and rose leisurely tohis feet. His speculative survey was interrupted by Holy.
"Say, Dunning, you know ol' man Walton," he began.
"Lived round here fifteen years, never had his hair nor beard cut onct;"catalogued Dunning. "So derned stingy that he'd skin a flea to get itshide and tallow!"
"Mebbe you'll git a chanct at him today;" encouraged Holy. "He's goin'to git married!"
The others snorted in surprise, and Bronco announced contemptuously,"There ain't a bunch of calico in Arizona that would let him near enoughto rope her, let alone carry his brand."
"Oh, you make me tired," Holy retorted. "Who said he was workin' anyArizona range? The girl's comin' from the East on today's train. Heshowed me her picture. I give him a fill about his white hair makin' himlook old, and said he'd oughter get Dunning to fix him up. Say!--heswallered it like a rattlesnake swallers a gopher."
"She must be locoed," growled Bronco, suspiciously.
"I own I ain't been dazzled by the charm that draws her," acknowledgedHoly, "but what interests me is that the Diamond H owes ol' Walton for aheap of things he ain't done. Say, Dunning, there's twenty-five pesoesfor you, if you fix him good and proper. I got an idee--but you may haveto go out of town for a few days."
"That's all right. Business ain't pressing. I figured on goin' outprospecting for a couple of weeks, anyhow. If any of the boys wants ahair-cut they can wait till I get back."
"Say Dunning, stay away three weeks," begged Bronco. "I'll make itthirty dollars if you do."
It was not solicitude for Dunning's safety that prompted this request,but Bronco, remembering that Dunning was the only barber, had a visionof the entire male population of Willcox sporting Rip Van Winklish hair,unless their flowing locks were mutilated by connubial scissors duringDunning's absence.
"Thirty goes," agreed Dunning. "Now, what is it you boys want done?"
Holy explained, interrupted by bursts of laughter from Bronco andRoarer, and finally, Dunning, with a grin, ended the consultation bysaying, "You fellers get him in here and I'll earn that thirty."